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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24196222">Oneiric</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janekfan/pseuds/Janekfan'>Janekfan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Geraskier Fun Day [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s01e05 Bottled Appetites, Gen, Geralt is trying his best, Geraskier Fun Day (The Witcher), Hugs, Insomnia, Jaskier doesn't wanna sleep, M/M, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, but can be gen if you'd like, kind of</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:21:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,962</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24196222</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janekfan/pseuds/Janekfan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Of relating to dreams.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Geraskier Fun Day [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1681084</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>185</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Geraskier Fun Day</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Oneiric</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Geraskier Fun Day Prompt: Nightmares!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Warm. </p><p>Thick.</p><p>Cloying and copper salt flooded his tongue.</p><p>He was choking on it. </p><p>He couldn’t breathe.</p><p>Couldn’t get words out to even ask for help.</p><p>He could always get words out.</p><p>But this iron tide held him mercilessly under. </p><p>Pouring over him. Drowning him. Strangling him. </p><p>Nimble fingers, musician's fingers, danced over tendons stretched taut like familiar strings. Picked and plucked and pulled.</p><p>Clawed. Ripped. Mauled. </p><p>Anything to breathe again.</p><p>Jaskier flipped himself off the mattress when pounding on the door wrenched him from his dreaming. Saved him from strangling himself with his own two hands. He couldn’t hear the words shouted through the planks thanks to the rush of the sea in his ears put there by the awful labor of his heart. Heaving for air. Scrabbling at his aching neck. Fingers red, red, red. Jaskier turned his face to the floor and let the cool wood soothe his burning skin. In four counts, hold four, out four. </p><p>Melting.</p><p>Exhausted. </p><p>Second night in a row. They’d boot them out at this rate. </p><p>At least Geralt was away on a hunt. </p><p>Jaskier pushed himself up to retrieve the small looking glass in his pack and examined the scratches decorating the pale column of a throat sore with his screaming. Shallow. The smell of blood would fade by the witcher’s return tomorrow evening. Or at least he’d be unable to smell it under the rot of whatever monster’s guts he’d gone adventuring for; he couldn’t remember. Swallowing the memories along with the last of an elixir for his voice, Jaskier settled back into bed with his notebook and quill, inkpot balanced beside him. </p><p>He wouldn’t sleep again that night. </p><p> </p><p>Jaskier thanked the cool weather for aiding him in his deception, not that he thought Geralt would take notice or care if his chemise and doublet were done up to his chin. He was tired, having slept poorly for nights in a row and unable to shake the feeling of being stifled for breath even now in the dappled shade of the trail, free from danger, protected by Geralt in point, safer still because there was at least one less monster in the world. </p><p>“Keep up, Jaskier.” </p><p>“It’s early yet. I’m not awake!” Hitching his lute higher on his shoulder, he hurried forward, lambasting Geralt for walking too quickly and not keeping his human companion, nay, friend, in mind! </p><p> </p><p>“Jaskier.” The warning in his low voice was clear. “Put it away.” Making smooth eye contact, the bard strummed brazenly away, picking out a bawdy refrain that Geralt recognized. “If you don’t go to sleep soon it’s going to be hell waking up.” </p><p>“It’s hell anyway.” But he complied, the witcher had kindly let him play far longer than ever before. “Artists were never meant to rise with the sun.” And flopped down on his bed roll, welcoming the prone position, sighing deeply, with his arms crossed behind his head. </p><p>“You didn’t sing.” </p><p>“Hm.” Jaskier didn’t know for sure how Geralt sussed out his lying but knew he would if given half the chance. A truth then. He didn’t have to tell all of it. “My throat has been bothering me.” </p><p>“Are you falling ill? I can’t have you sick out here on the road.” Jaskier would agree that it was no picnic.</p><p>“No, nothing like that.” Another truth. “Just something that happens when one is as vocally gifted as myself.” Small bits like breadcrumbs leading down a different path. “I took something for it.” All true. </p><p>“Hmm.” Eyes like dying candle wicks scrutinized him in the dark. Perhaps he wasn’t as clever as he thought. Certainly wouldn’t be the first time. “If you’re sure.” </p><p>“Very much so, darling witcher.” He pressed the back of his wrist to his forehead, his flair dramatic. “Your concern weakens my knees and makes my heart trip, love.” The roll of Geralt’s eyes was nigh audible but his histrionics had the intended effect and Jaskier heard what marked a larger man turning away.</p><p>It couldn’t have been longer than a handful of moments when Jaskier jolted awake, sitting up and retrieving his notes. If he kept his hands and mind busy it would be morning before he knew it, time eaten away by creativity and drive. He didn’t dare attempt sleep. </p><p>If he slept, he’d dream. If he dreamed--</p><p>Geralt would know. </p><p> </p><p>To say the witcher was surprised would not have been discriminating enough. </p><p>“You’re up.” Jaskier handed him some dried provisions over a cold fire pit. “Early. What kind of apparition are you?” </p><p>“A joke! Delightful!” He laughed, genuine and light despite his stinging sleep-filled eyes. “I was beginning to think my wit was quite lost on you.” With practiced ease he packed his kit, rolling the most precious supplies in cloth and stowing them safely. “I thought of a most lovely melody and had to write it down.” </p><p>“Don’t let it slow you down.” Roach was tacked up and eager to get on, stamping her hoof and nickering softly. “We make for the next town by nightfall.” </p><p> </p><p>Something was wrong. And Geralt was frustrated that he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. The inn was larger, full of patrons both drunk and generous and the bard took advantage far longer than he usually would. He’d bleed the village dry at this rate. But even though he was recognized, and received well, as the White Wolf and Jaskier as his Barker, the musician chose only the most popular anthems before falling back on more lewd favorites and rounds. The room was still roaring when Geralt retired for the night, looking forward to a proper mattress after days of hunting followed by sleeping rough.</p><p>When he met the bard, readied and waiting for him, he could see past the carefully coiffed hair and gleaming grin to his drawn features and bruised under eyes. Far from the refreshment that usually followed a successful evening and retiring to an actual bed. </p><p>He was sure Jaskier hadn’t slept. </p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t until they were well into the day that Geralt’s curiosity (worry) got the best of him. </p><p>“You’ve been quiet.” Geralt mused from Roach’s back, lifting an eyebrow with a simultaneous quirk of his lips. “Did one of your dalliances steal your tongue away?” Jaskier laughed gently. </p><p>“Was that another joke I just heard?” He shouldered his lute higher. “Two in the span of as many days--did the monsters teach you that? Is that why it took you so long?” Geralt snorted, turning back to the road. “No, dear witcher. Just ruminating on a lyric or two. It might help if you gave me some details?”</p><p>“I think not.” Jaskier could hear the affection in his tone but it didn’t dull the sting like it usually would. “If my silence is ensuring yours, I’ll keep my secrets until we camp.” The promise of even the smallest morsel of information put the bard in a jovial mood and Geralt caught him humming more than once. It was nice after all his quiet. </p><p> </p><p>“Jaskier, you’re exhausted.” He’d shown uncharacteristic mercy and given Jaskier what passed for a witcher’s excruciating detail and the fervor with which he wrote, tongue poking between his teeth in concentration, made Geralt fond. But the shadows playing over his face only exaggerated his pinched features. </p><p>“Just need to finish this verse. Won’t be a moment, go on, sleep and I’ll follow.” Muttering accompanied by the scratching of his quill. He stopped. Looked up. The weariness evident in the almost fevered gleam in his eyes. “I will. Truly.”</p><p>He was lying. Geralt didn’t know why and clearly, despite sharing every other detail in his daily life, he chose not to share this. Shaking his head, he slipped into a light meditation.</p><p>It wasn’t much longer when he was roused by screaming. </p><p> </p><p>He had to sleep. He was tired to his bones, the kind of depth that made you shiver with cold even though there was none, but it was his hope that he was so wrung out that his final surrender would leave him too deep to dream. </p><p>The sharp taste of salt-blood on his lips.</p><p>The scent of iron filling his nose.</p><p>The sting of a swelling throat and starbursts behind tightly closed lids. </p><p>His own gasping, choking, wheezing stopping up his ears.</p><p> </p><p>Jaskier wasn’t breathing, was clawing at his neck like a madman and contorted on the bed roll like a bent bow. Geralt had him in his arms in a heartbeat, forcing his hands away, wrenching open his jaw in search of whatever was strangling him and finding nothing. Nothing. And his lips were fading to blue. </p><p>“Breathe!” He shook him, roared the order. Shook him again. Slapped his face harder than he’d intended. Until pained, glazed eyes snapped open, darting wildly around the clearing and slipping off Geralt’s face like water over a river stone. “Jaskier. Jaskier, breathe.” He was stiff, trembling like mad, a trapped animal. “Jaskier!”</p><p>A breath like a man drowned. Chest heaving, clothes damp with sweat, and Jaskier fell, scrambled, pulled himself away to curl around himself and Geralt let him go. </p><p>“Jaskier.”</p><p>The man flinched hard, hands flying to his throat as the foolishness dropped from his mouth like a heavy stream of sand.</p><p>“I’ll be quiet! Please!”</p><p>A beat of uncomfortable silence stretched to a measure, two. A phrase. </p><p>Until Geralt reached forward, grimacing as Jaskier flinched again out of shame, and took hold of his chin to lift it, gold eyes taking in layers of marks, old and new, scrawled like ink over parchment. He could feel delicate tremors under his hand, muscles screaming with tension, pulse rabbit quick and pounding so hard Geralt was worried he might swoon. </p><p>“Hmm.” It wasn’t often he was the first to break a silence. And there’d been too much silence as of late. </p><p>“I, I didn’t mean--” Rough hands lifted Jaskier’s own, examined the rust embedded beneath his nails; steady, soft, slow, and the warmth of the gesture left him weak with relief. He felt like Geralt could see through everything when next he cupped one damp cheek to run the pad of his thumb over the bruise under his eye. </p><p>“I should have noticed sooner.”</p><p>“No! It’s--”</p><p>“Hush, lark.” The nickname stole from him the last of his tension, unknotted it, coiled it neatly and away. “You are not quiet without reason. And I should not have made light of it.” Indeed, Geralt should have made some effort to ask after him. He’d caused this too and just as he’d found an answer for his thoughtless wish, so too would he find an answer to this. But that was something to think on after he saw Jaskier safely to sleep. </p><p>“I don’t know why this is happening.” </p><p>“Sometimes there is no reason.” </p><p>“My voice. I know it gets me into trouble but it’s. It’s all I have, Geralt.” Spiraling back down, words spilling from a mouth senseless with exhaustion.</p><p>“Maybe not all you have.” The witcher tugged Jaskier forward and he went willingly, letting his forehead rest on a strong shoulder, wrapped up in warm arms, and only resisting when he felt everything shift sideways onto the bed roll. “I’ve got you.” He pulled the blanket over the both of them. “And I will have you until you’ve rested. With his clever tongue stunned silent, Jaskier had no rebuttal for long moments. </p><p>“You’re in the dirt.” Prone now, his whispered words were slurred with weariness.</p><p>“I am.” </p><p>“Leaves in your hair.”</p><p>“You’ll take care of them tomorrow.”  </p><p>“Maybe I won’t.” Stubborn as ever. Geralt could feel the fight in him. Could smell his fear. </p><p>“I have you.” Between one slow, easy breath and the next, Jaskier was safely, deeply asleep.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was like pulling teeth. Every word. It didn't wanna be written D:</p></blockquote></div></div>
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